


Television Romance

by grimeysociety



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bulimia, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Childhood Sexual Abuse, Darcy Lewis Needs a Hug, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25968559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: “I’m happy,” Darcy lied. “I’m doingsowell.”
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Comments: 56
Kudos: 239





	Television Romance

**Author's Note:**

> Sometime ago, my writing turned into "Grimey's Selfish Time" and I've written whatever I've wanted, but after the weekend I had, I felt like I _needed_ this one ripped out of me. **Please be aware of the tags, this fic may be extremely triggering**. Don't take anything bad Darcy says or thinks about herself as an actual observation from this here writer. Ladies and gentlemen, the volume of the projection inside of this fic is... [astronomical](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXepJ5rtLxU).

_All that I want_  
_Is a hole in the ground_  
_You can tell me when it's alright_  
_For me to come out_  
**\- "Hard Times" by Paramore**

_For you have a way of promising things_  
_And I've been a forest fire_  
_I am a forest fire_  
_And I am the fire and I am the forest_  
_And I am a witness watching it_  
**\- "A Burning Hill" by Mitski**

_Oh, baby, won't you stop it?_  
_You and I haven't got it_  
_Television romance_  
**\- "Television Romance" by Pale Waves**

Steve was the kind of pretty that immediately put Darcy at ease. Thank God she didn’t have to try with this guy, he’d never, ever ask her out. He’d only be confused by her modern references and vernacular. He’d only see her as this other species of woman. Darcy’s grandmother was certainly his type. She figured most Lewis ancestral women were his type, with the big hips, big lips and big tits, hourglass little wisecracks that they were.

Darcy was inclined to sing the entirety of _Shake It Off_ on the first night they met, dancing around with very little rhythm, making Jane join in with her. She didn’t dare mention to anyone that the last time she screamed Taylor Swift, it was _Love Story_ and she was driving with her windows down, crying after a breakup in high school. She was a massive dork but she wasn’t a masochist. She also hated a cliché.

So from that night on, she was able to hit on him in an off-handed way, like remarking on his handsomeness was like regarding the weather. Look that jawline, you could cut paper with it, et cetera. He’d give her a little smile like he was mildly confused and Darcy would sidestep him, no big deal. She wasn’t trying to date. She knew it wasn’t really for her, all that hassle over something that regularly let people down.

Sure, she was lonely. She’d always sort of been. She didn’t let it get to her, though. That would mean having to expose all the demons and that shit made everyone run for the hills. So Darcy ate extra helpings of ice cream after most dinners and sometimes she drank too much, but she managed to get up again every morning after, ears ringing and gaps missing.

She knew she was fucked up. She figured most people were. She didn’t want people knowing just how fucked up she truly was. It was a downer, really. She only managed to get away with it for so long, when her family asked her back for a few days, three months into her new job with Jane in New York. It was hard to not feel like total shit when she came back, seeing her parents judging her and telling her they hoped she had more figured out by now.

It didn’t seem to matter to them that she was doing way better than she used to be. There was always a not-so subtle concern about her weight, or her lack of a boyfriend. Her sister was moved in with hers, and her cousins were having kids. Darcy knew it wasn’t a race, but she knew she also wasn’t even on the same track as anyone else in her family.

“Are you... are you seeing someone, at least?” her mother asked, when Darcy was in the middle of her bag of potato chips, crumbs everywhere on her shirt.

She brushed them away, reading her parents’ expressions as uncomfortable. She was sure they’d been watching her eat the entire time, and not the TV that was playing a French movie Darcy didn’t like.

“No,” she murmured.

She hadn’t seen a therapist in months. They were expensive, and the last one she saw worked at Culver and Darcy had convinced her repeatedly that she wasn’t that sick. Lying to people actually got easier with age. She often said what they wanted to hear, anyway. The messages were pretty clear: _we’d rather you didn’t act this way._ So Darcy simply complied with what wasn’t said out loud.

She’d been rebelling, though. Gaining weight and not apologizing for it, not picking up the phone for weeks because she didn’t want to speak to her family.

“I’m happy,” Darcy lied. “I’m doing _so_ well.”

She wasn’t sleeping properly. She was held together with coffee and sheer stubbornness. She got along well with Jane for a reason, neither of them had any qualms sacrificing their personal lives for their jobs. Darcy didn’t like hers to start with, so that made it especially easy.

When she got the bus back to the city, she played music through her earphones so loud that her ears throbbed when she paused to go to the bathroom. She caught a couple stares from her fellow passengers and decided it wasn’t worth trying to pretend, these were strangers.

She just needed to be at peace with being inadequate. She’d be the sidekick in every story, perfectly forgettable. A few years ago, she would have spent more time in the bathroom with her fingers down her throat to make herself feel better. She knew it was why her parents were wary of her leaving the room whenever she ate.

Sometimes it felt like everyone was waiting for her to fuck up again, and only then would they step in. Everything else just seemed like a kind of sideshow you couldn’t look away from.

She couldn’t get into any of that, not out loud, unless she was okay with seeing the looks on people’s faces when they processed those unspeakable things she thought of.

-

She knocked on Steve’s door, thinking he’d probably not answer. He had the ability to radiate his “fuck off” vibes from several feet away, and Darcy was certain a door between the two of them wouldn’t make a lick of difference.

He answered after a minute, when she was already turning away and making her way back to the elevator. His head appeared, ducking out and frowning after her.

“Darcy?”

She whipped her head toward him and smiled, automatic. He wore surprise well, with his dog tags swinging as he stepped out, brows hiking.

“You get my email?” she said, and he nodded. “Okay, cool. Class is in session.”

She walked back, slipping past him without permission, already assuming the role. She flashed another smile as he shut the door, rounding on her.

“I didn’t reply to it.”

“My email?” Darcy said, and he nodded again. “I figured you wouldn’t agree, but Fury already told me this is happening regardless.”

“That sounds about right,” Steve muttered, and then he walked past her, down the hall and into the kitchen.

Darcy walked into the living room, hearing him call out:

“You want a beer?”

“Sure,” she called back, putting her bag on the coffee table and taking out a DVD.

She held it up as he came in with two bottles, swapping her one for the DVD.

“ _Jurassic Park_ , huh?” he read, turning over the DVD. “I was thinking you’d at least start with something non-fiction.”

“Who says it’s not based on real events?” Darcy said, putting her bottle to her lips. She took a swig, pointing her finger toward the TV. “Put it on.”

Fury told her a few days ago that he wanted her to help Steve with being part of society. Since the Battle of New York, Steve hadn’t exactly acclimatized. If Darcy knew any better, he seemed a little depressed. She was surprised she’d managed to meet him at all, considering the rumor was that he hardly left the Tower, unless it was for a mission.

-

They kept this up for a couple weeks. Darcy would spend her mornings with Jane and then go upstairs and watch a movie with Steve. She tended to pick popcorn classics. Every so often, Steve seemed to enjoy himself, but she figured he was just being polite for the most part.

She knew she was already pushing his limits by being in his apartment all the time, but then she had to make it worse by mentioning the summer weather one afternoon, the sun shining through the windows.

“Doesn’t it make you wanna be out there?” she said, gesturing toward the blue sky.

Steve looked like he was trying to not roll his eyes. Darcy knew she sounded like an annoying asshole. She’d dealt with plenty of those over the years, thinking that she just needed things like sunlight to feel good, like she was a wilting flower.

“Not really,” he muttered. “And isn’t that a little hypocritical of you?”

He must be referring to her aversion to the great outdoors. She smirked, shrugging.

“I thought I’d try. Be like everyone else and tell you exactly what your problem is…”

His lips lifted into a brief smile and he shook his head.

“I go running at night, so it’s not like I’m lacking the fresh air.”

Darcy made a face and he actually grinned, and Darcy’s stomach flipped at the sight of him, his knee bumping hers.

“And it’s warm enough in here – _why_ are you wearing your cardigan indoors, Darce?”

Darcy felt her face fall and she glanced away, knowing he probably noticed how she got sweaty around him, despite the air conditioner. She wore long sleeves for especially obvious reasons to herself, but for a second she forgot he wouldn’t know not to ask.

“Are you trying to give yourself heatstroke?” he added, and Darcy didn’t smile, unable to force herself.

“No, I… I’m probably getting sick, I feel cold,” she babbled, trying to change the subject. “Can we get back to the movie? You’re missing dialogue.”

It was a Katharine Hepburn movie Darcy actually hadn’t seen before. She bought it at Goodwill yesterday, on her way back from splurging on ice coffees for herself and Jane. She’d been in a good mood, she’d like to think. She could feel the panic rising as Steve’s eyes settled on Darcy instead of the screen.

“You got the chills?”

“No,” Darcy snapped, her eyes swinging to meet his, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “I just don’t want to talk about it, alright? It’s – it’s fucking embarrassing, okay?”

“Okay, sorry,” Steve said, and he sounded genuinely remorseful, his face falling. “Didn’t mean to overstep.”

Darcy couldn’t cope with how sad he seemed to turn in a matter of seconds, folding back on himself. He hadn’t done that in several days, and she hoped she wouldn’t see it again, but it was her fault, she’d been overreacting.

The silence that followed was tense, filled with the movie’s soundtrack and bickering voices. Darcy couldn’t follow it, thinking about how Steve would probably not let her come back tomorrow. She felt her shoulders slump a little and her heart was beating too fast, but she knew she had to say something substantial.

She passed a sweaty hand over her face and huffed.

“I have scars.”

Steve didn’t say anything, and she swallowed hard, face burning. She let her eyes drift from the TV to Steve’s knee, then his arms in his tight t-shirt, then up to his face. His eyes were already on her, too, and Darcy tried to decipher the look in his eye.

“I… I did it to myself,” she added, her voice thinner. “I used to cut myself.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Steve said, and Darcy felt her heart sink.

He was asking her to not elaborate because it was hard enough for him to hear about their existence in the first place. He might have thought she was sick in the head.

She probably was. Sick.

“Fine.”

“I mean, unless you want to,” he said, and Darcy blinked at him. “Talk about it. Explain your scars, or…”

Darcy shook her head, losing her nerve. She got up instead, walking out into the kitchen. She came back with a glass of water, sitting on the edge of her end of the couch, leaning her elbows on her knees.

“Darce.”

His voice was soft, and she knew he was trying to comfort her. She felt her guts twisting with shame and regret, wishing she had some better tactic for dealing with him. He was so earnest, she realized. He was a really sweet person, reaching to touch her shoulder with one of his huge hands.

“Sit back.”

She nodded, hesitating just the same.

“C’mere a second,” he added, his voice quieter.

She let herself drift back, until his arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and she was tucked into his side, feeling the warmth of his body through his clothes, smelling his sweet scent mixed with the musk of sweat that must have dried some time ago.

She was still tense, unable to relax, though he was comforting in a way. She was too aware of where his body was beside hers. He took her hand in his after a half hour more of the movie, his breathing steady and calm.

He turned his head, and she was looking up at him, his eyes locked with hers. He leaned forward, his nose brushing hers, and Darcy closed her eyes, his lips pressing into hers.

When she felt the first swipe of his tongue licking into her mouth, her hand deep in his hair, her stomach flipped while her face burned.

They heads tilted one way and then another, lips smacking as Darcy heard him sigh like she was, his hands on her hips, everything too warm and dizzying.

She pulled back, and he chased her for another kiss, but she turned her head to the side, his lips trailing down her neck instead, and Darcy closed her eyes, feeling a tingle radiate down from where he kissed her behind her ear.

“This is a bad idea,” she said aloud.

He pulled back, his eyes darker, his lips wet.

“Why?”

“Because we work together,” she said.

“I don’t work in the labs.”

“You know what I mean,” she retorted. “We’d have to see each other after.”

“I’d hope so,” he said, tilting his head.

She managed to slip away from him, standing up. “I don’t do relationships. I especially don’t get this far with guys like you.”

“Guys… like me,” Steve said, sitting back, and Darcy could see the outline of his erection through his pants.

He looked roughed up, his cheeks pink with his hair sticking up at the back. He ran his fingers through it, taking a deep breath.

“Let’s not do this again, okay? Let’s be friends,” Darcy said.

She hated herself for the look he gave her, the way his enthusiasm evaporated almost instantly, but she wasn’t doing yet another dumb thing. Steve didn’t deserve it. He needed a grown woman, not a girl masquerading as one.

-

She came back the next day, unable to keep away. She knew she should bail and tell Fury it didn’t work out, but another part of her wanted to be with Steve even if the space between them felt smaller and smaller, the couch tinier than the first time they sat on it together.

He let her in wordlessly, and she knew she was in trouble. He didn’t seem sad around her, only watching her with a type of heat she was having a hard time ignoring. It drove her nuts that he’d kissed her at all, and she had no idea how to make the curiosity go away.

It took only minutes of them sitting together before they turned to one another and have everything fall into place, Steve’s arm wrapping around her waist to pull her into his lap.

He kissed her breathless, and Darcy didn’t suppress her moans like yesterday. She knew she’d been keeping him at arm’s length but now her body didn’t want to deny herself this any longer. He was so capable, holding her and kissing her deep, his other hand in her hair.

When she pulled back to take a breath, he smiled at her, and everything seemed to buzz inside her, so much so that she ghosted a hand over his crotch, watching his throat bob as she began to unfasten his pants to delve a hand inside his underwear.

She moved back, out of his arms, to fall to her knees and move between his, taking him out of his pants and stroking him slow, inspecting him only for a few seconds before she sealed her mouth over him.

She was good at blowjobs. For what Darcy lacked in relationships, she knew she made up for in the bedroom in general. She was enthusiastic, happy to make a guy feel good. She could hear just how much Steve enjoyed it, his hand in her hair, his other on her shoulder.

What must he think of her? Probably that she felt good, but there was no way he could respect her. She volunteered this, pressing him to the back of her throat like it was nothing at all, swirling her tongue as he moaned, his head falling back, the tendon on his neck standing out.

She swallowed it all down when he came, coming up for air, leaning back on her knees as Steve panted, his eyes falling to hers as he tucked himself back in his jeans.

“Lemme –” she heard him say, reaching for her, but she shook her head, because she didn’t think she’d like it.

It was hard for her to enjoy being touched. That came with the unspeakable stuff, the stuff her parents had never liked hearing about, because it meant they had to think of their child being violated.

Because she had been, when she was really little, and she hadn’t spoken about it for over ten years. The secrets came spilling out in high school when she couldn’t be intimate with any boy without wanting to scream or cry. She slashed at her arms to make the rush of endorphins take over the confusion and pain.

Steve pulled her close, her head on his shoulder, still tasting his spill on her tongue, feeling a little congested from it, hoping the subject wouldn’t come up again for a little while.

“We should get dinner,” he said eventually, and he sounded content, at ease. “Go on a date.”

Darcy tried to not visibly react to how casual he was about his intentions. He probably felt obligated. She knew men in his time were inclined to treat a lady to a hot meal for sucking their dick.

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t want to?”

“Not really,” she admitted.

-

They made out again the next day and Darcy could feel she wanted him, with how her tummy was warm with desire, but it was difficult to get the puzzle pieces to fit together.

She didn’t know how to tell him that she was afraid of him, and that she was afraid of wanting him, too.

He didn’t deserve feeling responsible for her, which he seemed to be by how he was looking at her in between kisses.

“Go out with me,” he whispered, and Darcy felt herself smile even though she was shaking her head. He pressed a kiss to her lips without closing his eyes. “Go out with me…”

It was like he was trying to convince her with his touch, so Darcy retaliated with a rougher kiss, tugging at his lip with her teeth at the end, his grip tightening on her waist and butt.

She stepped off the couch, walking backwards, toward the hallway. She hadn’t been in his bedroom yet but it didn’t take a genius to know it was down there, Steve following her and colliding with her once more in a searing kiss, picking her up to carry her the rest of the way.

He took off his shirt, after he lowered her on the bed, and Darcy took hold of his dog tags, staring up into his beautiful eyes. He was so pretty her chest ached from looking at him, seeing so much of his skin.

He crawled on top of her, their noses brushing as Darcy played with the dog tags, rubbing her thumb over his name again and again…

“If I take off my clothes,” she whispered, and he began to smile. “I… I don’t want you to freak out.”

He shook his head, and Darcy wriggled out enough to sit up, crossing her arms over her front to lift the hem of her shirt.

“Lemme,” he whispered, and Darcy obliged, Steve’s hands replacing hers to peel off her shirt and cardigan in one go.

Her scars were raised and white, haphazard lines in some places and precise patterns in others. They were all over, only patches of her chest were smooth.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve breathed, and Darcy felt sick, only to realize he was overcome with desire, mouth dipping down to press at her breasts, and Darcy sucked in a breath.

“Okay…”

“I’m serious,” he whispered, his hands on her jeans now. “Your body’s incredible…”

“Okay,” Darcy said again, not sure how to otherwise respond.

“You’re so beautiful…”

He got her pants off, tugging them off her ankles, moving between her thighs, pulling down his pants in turn. Darcy lay back, hoping despite everything.

She didn’t expect to feel him make a long lick over her folds, Darcy jolting on impact.

“Steve –”

She wanted to shove him away since she never enjoyed this, but the words weren’t coming out, she was swallowing them back down as he tongued at her, wrapping his arms around her scarred thighs. His fingers lay on top of a particularly deep one she remembered making, one night years ago, when she considered dragging herself to the emergency room for stitches. She never got them, which meant the scar was thick and hard to look at.

“Oh, God,” she gasped, feeling herself tighten, and Steve was relentless and unafraid, sucking her clit and lips, one of her heels digging into his back for purchase.

She tried to not think about what she looked like, helpless and open in his arms, coming with her back arching, her teeth grit as she tried to vibrate off the mattress.

She gave a little panting sigh, falling back down, Steve already shifting back up, gathering her in his arms again, his face wet.

He cupped her jaw as he pushed inside her, Darcy’s eyes glued to his, and it was too much, she had to look away… she closed her eyes as he began to rock, bottoming out, both of them groaning.

He began to move again after a minute, gentle at first, but then he seemed to lose control, his body smacking into hers, his hands slipping down to grab her ass to tilt her hips as he drove into her…

Darcy still had her bra on, she remembered dazedly, one of the straps falling down, and she quickly rid herself of it, and Steve’s mouth latching onto one hard nipple, and he was groaning, moving faster.

The sweet drag of him, everything stretched, Darcy couldn’t deny it felt fucking amazing…

“Fuck, sorry, fuck,” he gasped, and he moaned, hips stalling.

He buried his face in her neck as he shuddered, and Darcy blinked up at the ceiling, everything sticky. She supposed it was fast, but she didn’t mind, watching Steve as he pulled back, panting and red-faced.

“Sorry,” he whispered, and she shook her head, holding his face in her hands.

She slipped out from under him to use the bathroom, her eyes seeing her body properly for the first time, and she didn’t want to overthink it, because then she’d definitely ruin it all. She went back to him, lying down next to him, leaning on her elbow as Steve’s hands reached for her again, stroking her face.

“Go out with me,” he whispered.

They smelt of each other. His bedroom smelt of sex where they left it. Darcy was led by the hand through the park as they ate ice cream, her cardigan back on but her sleeves were rolled down to her elbows. Baby steps.

The sun was meant to set in a few hours, but it felt like they had all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I love you. ❤
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


End file.
